Italian
by mari.92.11.3
Summary: Ginny gets food poisoning. Rating to be excessively safe.


Stupid stupid stupid…

_Stupid stupid stupid…_

Ginny clutched at the sides of the sink and released everything she'd consumed the day before.

_I thought I was beyond food poisoning._

She hated Mediterranean food. Why did they have to stick duck in everything? Couldn't they just let the poor animals be?

_I'll never be lazy again. I'll cook, honestly, from now on—_

"Ginny? Are you ok? Your mum sent me with a care kit."

No. No, now was a terrible time for her mother to send her anything, especially food. No, please, no more—

"I'm fine!" she choked, before leaning forward and wretching once again.

"You are _not. _Harry's more than a little worried, you know, you should at least admit there's something wrong—"

"Hermione, _shut up._" Another bout in the sink.

"Ginny, let me in."

"Door's open, damn it!"

Hermione squeezed herself into the bathroom with a glass of water and two pills. "Here. It's a muggle medicine, but it always works for me."

Ginny grabbed it and swallowed quickly. Her stomach revolted determinedly, but nothing came up this time, at the very least, and she managed to brush her teeth and go lie down.

"Better?"

She nodded slowly.

"Harry?"

"Give him the grocery list. It's on the counter."

"Right. Do you need me for anything else?"

"No, I should be fine."

"I'll put Molly's box right here then." She put it carefully on the bedside table, and stepped out the door.

"She wants you to go to the supermarket." Ginny heard her tell Harry once she'd shut the door.

"The _supermarket_? She's in there throwing up and all she can think of are the _groceries?_" he demanded incredulously.

"I'm sure she just wants you to go away."

"That's not funny, Hermione."

"It wasn't meant to be. I didn't lock the door anyways, so if you want to see her, go ahead. I can take James for a bit.

Ginny's eyes widened, and she buried her head under a pillow before Harry came in and sat at the foot of the bed. She knew he was crossing his arms and waiting awkwardly for her to say something.

"We're _never _having Italian again." She said hoarsely. "_Ever."_

"I thought it was pretty good, actually…"

She threw the pillow at him and sat up. "Don't make fun of me. I'm not the one who hid in the bathroom for three hours after their first alcohol consumption."

He rolled his eyes. "Well, I have a sturdier stomach than you do, anyways."

"Is that a good thing, Potter? Because you're looking a little plump around the edges."

"Pregnancy didn't do to well with you either, Potter."

"_Your _fault. You want a nice, skinny wife? Use protection."

He smiled crookedly, and moved so that he was beside her, his arm about her waist. She leaned into his shoulder sleepily.

"Where'd Hermione take James?"

"Out to lunch, I believe."

"Where?"

"Italian."

She punched him lightly. "I'm laughing my head off, can you tell?"

"Yes, actually. I think she took him to the park," He added seriously. "He loves muggle toys, that one."

"She took Teddy with her, right?"

"I think so."

"You _think_?"

"I'm sure."

They were silent, breathing in unison and happy for the quiet company.

XXX

She was throwing up again. This wasn't supposed to happen was it? It couldn't be. Yesterday, it was because of food poisoning. Today…

Maybe the pasta from last night was slightly moldy. But neither Harry nor James were the least bit green, and she was retching all over again. And coffee… if she ever saw the drink again, she would vomit herself stomach-less.

"Ginny?" It was Hermione, and she sounded ecstatic. At the sound of the vomiting (someone had told her she made horrible noises when she threw up) her worried voice drifted in. "Are you feeling alright?"

"No," she croaked. "Get me Mum, Hermione."

"Right. You stay… stay put, I guess." And she apparated to the Burrow. Minutes later, Molly Weasely was smoothing her daughter's hair back and forcing a potion down her throat.

"Lie down, Ginny dear," she told her gently, putting her on the bed. It was Monday, and Harry was at work, but Hermione was hovering anxiously over her for some reason.

"Hermione," Ginny managed, "Don't you have to be at the ministry?"

"I got a day off?"

"Why?"

"Not now… tell you later, when you're a little calmer."

She didn't pester, but she fell asleep and let her mother do the necessary healing potions.

XXX

"Ginny?"

She stirred awake slowly; she didn't remember having fallen asleep, but Harry was beaming at her from the bedside. "Mmm?"

"I love you."

"I… what?"

"She doesn't know yet, Harry dear." Mrs. Weasely bustled over and kissed her daughter's cheeks. "You're pregnant, dearie."

"What? How? That's… Ok. I guess that's nice." She was slightly bewildered. So it wasn't food poisoning after all…

"I'll leave you then," said Mrs. Weasely, hugging her children one more time.

"Hermione's pregnant too." Harry told her softly. He kissed her, and they sat in silence for a while, before he dared to ask, "So… does this mean we can still eat Italian?"

She laughed, but didn't answer.


End file.
